My intuition has been spot on lately, thanks to prayer, meditation, and a very deep sense of oneness with nature. My St. Francis garden statue told me some of the secrets of how it's done.
Anyway, enough about me. So there I am, and suddenly it hits me, the ripples in the current from home. I can sense it clear as day, my hungry feathered friends are perking up. Before, they had been down, very down, not singing. The usual morning food wasn't in its place. It was all gone, nothing but chaff.
But now, there in the parking lot, I could sense a revival. Which is a two-way sense, since the feathered friends are on the same exact wavelength. One old wren, very old, very wise -- Wise Grandpa Wren -- shakes his head and says, "Hush, chill'un ... it's happening again..."
"What? What's happening?" the younger ones ask, squealing, thinking Grandpa might be something of a crank. One thing, he's always mysterious, as in this response: "You shall see ... the Days of Plenty will soon be here ... But forgive me, I go to rest." I have to smile as I sense these fantastic goings-on.
The rest of the scuttlebutt around the yard picks up with his word: "Days of Plenty, Days of Plenty..." Young female feathered friends are nodding toward each other and touching beaks. The males are bumping chests. Younger ones are in the feathered friend bath, splashing to beat the band.
I get in the car very happy. Except I have to drive all the way home. But I'm still happy, knowing they know what's coming. Hallelujah, touch your toes! Praise the Lord, for He arose!
Then I come in to wild acclaim, hefting a 40-pound bag of feed. The trees are hushed for a second, as the life-giving food, something from the hand of God, is lovingly poured into the feeder. I step back and smile at the movement in the trees. Then as I close the door, going in the house, I look back and see a wild stampede, our feathered friends literally stampeding through the air, hand over fist to get to it.
No one was hurt. And I just happened to have a slice of apple I didn't want, so I cut it in fours and tossed it out there, too.
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